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"Huh?" Mr. Christian demanded.

" You're not fooling anybody/* she said, " Why don't you

" Huh?"

"Don't huh me," she told her father, and laughed.
"You're not any more going possum-hunting than you're
going to fly to the moon."

Mr. Christian held his fork in midair, a slice of ham im-
paled upon it, and stared at his daughter. She was smiling at
him. " You're both dirty, low-down, plant-bed-scraping, barn-
burning night riders. And then you lie to me about it.
That"—and she took a sip of coffee and with a judicial air
set the cup down—" makes it worse."

" Now see here, Sukie------" Mr. Christian began.

"Yes, papa?" she inquired smilingly, as though nothing
had happened.

" Now see here. You don't know a thing. Not a thing.

" I'd be silly if I didn't," she said. " Everybody else does. I
bet half the people in the county could just off-hand name
you twenty-five apiece of the members of whatever high-
falutin thing it is you call yourselves. And half of those
would name both you all, you, papa, and you, Perse."

"Yeah, yeah," Mr. Christian returned, "and if all that's
true, how come the sheriff hasn't been out here long ago to
get me? And get Perse, huh?"

" Scared," she said, and took another sip of coffee. " Plain
scared." She set the cup down, smiled brightly at them both.
" He knows that just as soon as you all got put in his jail, a
lot of your little playmates would come and take his pleasant
little jail apart." Then she added, " And take him apart,, too,

" You don't know a thing," Mr, Christian said sourly.

"I know they couldn't get those men over in Hunter
County convicted this fall After they arrested them. Every-
body said the jury was full of night riders."

"Talk," Mr. Christian declared, "just talk/*